


Hosanna Hey Superstar

by Vae



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blasphemy, M/M, Musicals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>American Idol winner Kris Allen sponsors a one-off charity concert performance of Jesus Christ Superstar, with musical theater star Adam Lambert playing Judas to his Jesus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hosanna Hey Superstar

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kradam_holidays 2010 over on LiveJournal. With thanks to my lovely betas, lvs2read and matsujo9 and to my Twitter list for supplying me with cheese brand names. Happy holidays, abusing_sarcasm.

When he hears the casting, Adam can’t believe it. “You mean I don’t get Gethsemane?”

Lane taps her nails on her desk, a sure sign that she’s losing patience with him. “You’re singing Judas, Adam. It’s one performance, it’s for charity, it’s not like it’s going to stop you playing Jesus in a full staged production in a few years.”

“So who’s playing Jesus?” Judas is good. Judas gets some awesome songs, and he gets to open the show, but he doesn’t get Gethsemane. And there’s not even a hint on the grapevine that anyone’s going to stage a full production of Jesus Christ Superstar in the next five years.

There’s a moment of silence and stillness before Lane answers. “Kris Allen.”

Holy fuck, someone up there hates him. “The Idol guy?”

“Yes, Adam, the Idol guy,” Lane says crisply. “The winner of American Idol. The man with the name, the profile and the reputation to be able to sponsor and stage this concert and have it make enough profit for there to actually _be_ some money left over for the charity.”

Great. Years of working his way from chorus to understudy to lead on the LA stage haven’t given him the profile that six months of weekly television shows have given wholesome Kris Allen, the Arkansas Christian American Idol. Sometimes Adam wonders if he’s in the wrong line of work. “How much am I getting paid for this?”

Lane shakes her head. “It’s a charity concert,” she repeats, enunciating very clearly. “No fee.”

The publicity’s too good to turn down, even if he’d truly wanted to.

~~~

The first rehearsal (of only three, shit, this is either going to be amazingly tight or a total clusterfuck) takes place on a Wednesday morning.

Morning, as in before noon.

Adam’s late. Not through any fault of his own, which is pretty unusual for morning rehearsals. He’d passed on the drinks after curtain on Tuesday night, his alarm had gone off, he’d actually got out of bed and dressed and left on time with his score and everything else he needed, and then he’d completely failed to get a fucking cab. The subway had been more of a pain in the ass than usual, he’d ended up wishing he still smoked (except of course there’s nowhere left in LA that he could smoke except his own apartment and even then he’d probably be violating the lease), and stopped for completely necessary and vital coffee.

The cast’s already into warm-ups as he slides through the door into the rehearsal room juggling iPod, score and soy latte. The MD shakes her head but thankfully turns out to be someone who’s worked with Adam before, and he gets to hide at the back long enough to get his coat off, his bag tucked away, his score open and half his coffee drunk before he really needs to get into the warm-ups. It means his voice doesn’t get the workout he’d like before they move onto the bigger numbers, but at least today’s chorus stuff. None of the big solos.

When they break for lunch, the chorus and most of the disciples get to leave. Adam’s preparing to scoop all his worldly possessions back into his bag so he can race out to the good sushi joint on the corner when a hand on his arm makes him jump, drop his score, and swear.

Seriously, it’s not like he isn’t _used_ to being touched. His friends are a hands on group and he works in musical theater, for fuck’s sake. Touch goes on a lot. He just wasn’t expecting this touch.

He crouches down to retrieve his score, bumps heads with the unknown toucher who’s apparently doing the same thing, and falls on his ass. When the momentary dizziness clears, of course it has to be Kris Allen crouched down next to him, smiling, and holding out his score.

Adam takes it, not entirely graciously. “Jesus was Jewish,” he says pettishly.

Kris’s smile fades slightly. “I’m circumcised,” he says. “Close enough?”

All through lunch, Adam can’t stop thinking about Kris’ dick.

~~~

“Bono?” Adam says incredulously.

Alisan nods, laughing at the expression on his face, and reaches out to pat his head.

He ducks away. His hair is sacred. “Fucking _Bono_ as Herod?”

“London had Alice Cooper,” Alisan points out. “It’s pretty much a solo number, anyway.”

“But...” Fuck, it’s getting to the point where Bono turns up at every charity event ever. “I guess it could be worse.”

“It could totally be worse,” she agrees. “It could be Simon Cowell come to keep an eye on his protégé.”

Adam winces and pats his hair back into style. “Thank fuck for small mercies. Are you good for rehearsal this afternoon?”

“Better be, my number’s up.” She grins and flips a mirror from her purse. There are reasons that Alisan stays a friend.

“Your turn to pine over the idol,” he says as lightly as he can manage. It’s not that light. “I guess it’s a good thing that Judas hates him by this point, huh?”

Alisan arches an eyebrow above the mirror. “I don’t get why you can’t get on with Kris, he’s really sweet. And oh my God, Adam, seriously, you think Judas hates him?”

“Well, duh.” It’s all there in the lyrics. “He’s betrayed their ideals, he’s not the guy Judas thought he was, there’s so much potential there and Judas can see him throwing it all away...”

It’s not meant to sound personal. It’s really not meant to sound like he thinks that the whole American Idol set-up is selling out, even though he kind of does. He’s been in rehearsal with Kris now, and the guy can really sing. Kris is a _musician_ , not some glorified karaoke singer.

Apparently Alisan knows him way too well. “Honey,” she says gently, folding the mirror away and reaching out to rest her hand on his arm. “Judas loves him. Read his reaction to Mary again. Judas is gay for Jesus.”

Adam can’t remember that bit in his Bible, but he’s never really been a New Testament kind of guy.

~~~

It gives Adam a whole new perspective on the afternoon’s rehearsal. He reads through the lyrics again with Alisan’s words in his mind, sits at the side of the room, and watches as Kris and Alisan rehearse with the women’s chorus. A concert performance means that nothing’s fully staged, but they need to get at least some kind of acting in to get the characters across.

Kris isn’t much of an actor. Or maybe he’s a really good actor, Adam can’t really decide which. Either way, the way he’s acting as Jesus doesn’t seem that far from the guy joking around with Alisan and the girls when the MD, Ruth, goes to consult with the repetiteur again.

“Okay, let’s run it,” Ruth says wearily, moving back to her stand and flipping the score back. “Adam, with you this time.”

Adam nods and stands up, thinking hard as he moves in closer. What Alisan says kind of makes sense. More if he goes on the basis that maybe Judas and Jesus actually used to have a thing. It would make even more sense of Judas’s attack on Mary, make it more personal. So he goes with that, and rips into Alisan, fierce and practically snarling, and it _works_. Not just for him as Judas, but for the way Alisan stares and turns her back to him to sing her next section to Kris, and more for the way Kris actually reacts to him, pushing Alisan behind him for the rejoinder - which, Adam realizes when he gets that intensity from Kris, is the only direct reply Jesus makes in the song. Mary’s singing to him more, sure, but it’s Judas that Jesus responds to.

He’s beginning to think that Alisan’s right.

He still wishes he was singing Gethsemane, but maybe Kris can make a half-decent Jesus. For one concert performance.

~~~

At the beginning of the third rehearsal, Adam’s reading through his lyrics yet again when Kris approaches him, looking slightly wary. Adam pulls his earphones out, cutting off the London recording (and it really is Alice Cooper) that’s playing on his iPod. “Hey, Kris.”

“Adam.” Kris shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not quite meeting Adam’s eyes. “Look, that’s... the songs. You’re acting at me, right?”

If Kris didn’t sound genuinely worried, Adam would laugh. He’s pretty close to laughing anyway, because seriously? “Yeah, I’m acting,” he agrees. He’s still not sure what to make of Kris Allen, but he seems like a decent guy. He’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t noticed that Kris is seriously cute as well, and maybe he’s sneaked a few glances in the direction of Kris’s ass. It makes him feel better disposed towards Kris instead of resenting him for getting Gethsemane. “It’s what I do.”

“Okay, good.” Kris looks relieved. “Only yesterday, when we ran Everything’s Alright...”

“Testing a theory,” Adam says promptly. “I was talking to Alisan at lunch.”

Kris nods, rocking back on his heels. “So... You wanna catch dinner after rehearsal?”

Adam blinks. He’s pretty sure he can’t have heard that right. Or that he’s interpreting it wrong, because it sounds kind of like a date thing except there’s no way that Mr. Wholesome Jesus is asking him out on a date. “You mean like, dinner?”

“Like when people sit down and eat,” Kris says, grinning slightly. It makes his eyes crinkle up a little at the corners, and Adam want to taste the crinkles and learn how they feel on his tongue. Cute. Beyond cute. “You know, bread, wine, maybe fish? Only I’ve talked to most of the cast already but it feels like we haven’t really had chance to hook up.”

That so can’t be the way it sounds. “I’ve got a show tonight,” he says cautiously. “With Alisan.”

There’s the faintest hint of droop to Kris, faint enough that Adam nearly kids himself that he’s imagining it. “You’re coming to the party after the concert, though, right?”

“The industry thing?” He’s not missing that. The networking opportunities are going to be truly epic.

Kris shakes his head. “No, after. We’ve got the rehearsal rooms booked all night, kind of like a thank you since you guys aren’t getting paid. Food, drink, dancing...just us. And the orchestra.”

That’s a nice touch. The orchestra gets left out of a lot of stuff, and Adam finds himself nodding approval before he can think about it. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Cool.” Kris’s grin flashes out again, bright and happy. “Oh, hey.”

Adam waits for a continuation, head tilted.

“Judas was framed,” Kris says solemnly. “But so was Jesus.”

It doesn’t make any sense to Adam, but it sounds like a peace offering. He’s not sure that they need one for anything, but he nods again anyway.

~~~

The tech rehearsal’s already lasted for four hours, and the house has to open for the audience in just over two hours. Adam’s shattered already, drowsing against Alisan’s shoulder as the lighting guys adjust the rig again and do something with a computer that he can’t even begin to understand.

A warmth against his other side stirs him from his doze, and he blinks his eyes open, looking down in bemusement to see Kris snuggling up against him, eyes closed, impossibly long eyelashes casting shadows sharp over his cheeks as a spotlight slides over them to find its correct angle on the stage. Adam looks across at Alisan, the movement bringing him more upright, and then back at Kris when Kris makes a soft, protesting noise and curls in closer.

“Um,” Adam says tentatively. He kind of doesn’t want Kris to move, because that’s just nice, but the thing is that he’s been noticing Kris more as the rehearsals go on so it’s in danger of being more than nice and he’s pretty sure that Kris doesn’t need to know that. “Kris?”

Alisan stifles a giggle. Adam ignores her.

“Does it always take so long?” Kris asks, not moving.

Adam gives up, and loops his arm around Kris’s shoulders, trying to ignore the way he feels about the pleased sound Kris makes at that and the way Kris leans in closer. It’s really tempting to go for the innuendo, but he’s got to work with Kris and he’s still not sure how Kris would respond to actual flirtation. “Longer, usually.” Because usually they do manage to get through a whole show. “We don’t usually try and get through a tech on the same day as a performance, though.”

“And there’s usually a dress rehearsal,” Alisan adds, leaning around Adam to speak. “But we don’t have costumes for this, so...”

“And we don’t have time.” Kris nods, head sliding against Adam’s shoulder. “My management wanted to just have one rehearsal because you guys are so busy.”

Adam snorts, inelegant and amused. “Eight performances a week is busy?”

Alisan reaches across to swat him. “We don’t all get to finish forty minutes before the curtain, bitch.”

“Forty?” Kris leans his head back to look up at Adam. “How come?”

For a moment, Adam’s disappointed. He won’t give himself longer than a moment, but he’d kind of hoped that Kris had seen the show. “Billy’s done as soon as Roxie’s trial’s over, so...”

“I know _that_ ,” Kris interrupts, and Adam gets a completely inappropriate warm glow that Kris gets what he’s talking about. “You’re still there for the curtain though, right?”

“He’s been lounging in his dressing room for half an hour first,” Alisan says. “Not like those of us who _work_ for a living.”

Adam bares his teeth at her in a playful growl that he kind of half actually means. They’ve had this conversation a dozen times. He’s still not sure she isn’t right. “I save your life on stage eight times a week, honey, be grateful.”

Alisan sticks her tongue out at him. Adam mirrors her, then laughs and relaxes. “So, yeah, I’m still there for the curtain.”

“Man, I don’t do eight shows a week even if I’m touring,” Kris says, with something that sounds like admiration. “Maybe six at most? And writing and interviews, but that’s mostly going where I’m told.”

Adam doubts that. He’s pretty sure that if he had to do anywhere near the amount of publicity that Kris does, he’d have said something wildly inappropriate by now and ended up destroying his career. And never regretted it.

“God, I want a smoke,” Alisan says longingly, apparently apropos of nothing whatsoever. “Distract me, Adam. Have you guys done the kiss yet?”

Adam shoots her a startled look. He definitely hasn’t mentioned to her that he’s kind of crushing on Kris and even if he had, that’s a really weird way to phrase it. Plus Kris, still leaning against him, hasn’t even tensed or shown any sign of surprise that Alisan’s asking.

“Not yet,” Kris says perfectly calmly. “I guess we’ll have to wing it tonight, right, Adam?”

That’s when Adam’s seriously glad that Kris is against his side and not anywhere near his cock. “I guess?” he says. “I mean, yeah, sure we will.”

Alisan laughs and pats his hair. (With Kris leaning against him, Adam can’t duck out of the way. He scowls instead.) “Oh, honey, never change. Kris, they’re calling for you.”

~~~

Adam’s been pretty careful not to think too much about the performance. Actually doing a performance on only three rehearsals is scary. Doing a performance on only three rehearsals when they haven’t even run the whole show is terrifying, but somehow amazingly, _miraculously_ , it’s working. Maybe it’s the nerves, but it’s got the energy of the best performances, crackling along, fizzing with life and intensity.

At the intermission, he purposely avoids the rest of the cast, even Alisan and Kris. He takes time to check in with Ruth, then escapes to his dressing room to rehydrate. Sure, it’s only semi-staged, and it’s not like he’s as deeply into his character as he would be for a standard, fully-staged show, but he still needs that distance because now he’s away from the distraction of cute, hot Kris Allen snuggled up against him, he knows what Alisan was talking about.

The kiss.

The kiss they never got to in rehearsal. The kiss of betrayal. The kiss he’s somehow managed to forget about. The kiss he’s got to give Kris Allen in front of nearly four thousand people and somehow make it not Adam Lambert kissing Kris Allen. It’s got to be Judas kissing Jesus.

He could take the easy way out. The script defines the kiss as being on the cheek. He could go with that, make it tame, except that it’s not going to work with his performance so far. If Judas is in love with Jesus, even a kiss of betrayal needs to be a real kiss. He’s going to need to commit to it.

Somehow he’s sure that bit isn’t going to be the problem.

The show isn’t going to wait for Adam to work out a solution. The bells ring and he’s back down on the stage with nothing left to do but to trust his character.

Judas carries him through the confrontation of the Last Supper and off to the side of the stage to watch and wait. This is the climax, this is the song he was aching to sing himself. This is Gethsemane.

He’s still buzzing, still fired up from screaming at Kris - Jesus - adrenaline racing. His hands are slightly damp from sweat, his make-up’s only staying in place because of the fixing spray, and there’s heat everywhere: crawling across the back of his neck and turning the radio mic cable into an irritation, laced tight down his spine, flushed across his cheekbones. Fingers curl until he’s pressing his nails into his palms and he can feel the ache beginning from tension through his jaw, and none of it matters. Everything’s focused on Kris and the stage.

Kris, alone in the center of the stage. The disciples have fallen back, the chorus has sat down, Alisan’s across the opposite side of the stage, and Kris is left isolated in the spotlight, his shadow falling stark behind him as he stands there, head bowed, shoulders moving slightly with each breath. Perfect silence in the hall until Ruth brings her baton down and it begins. Soft guitar rhythm, deceptively gentle as Kris begins to sing, voice quiet as he lifts his head.

The light is pitiless, blue-toned white showing the sheen of perspiration on his face, spiking his hair, casting his eyes into dark shadows. Adam’s forced to reconsider his assessment of Kris’s acting talent, because this is amazing. Intense, emotional, despairing; if he’s not connecting with the character he’s sure as shit connecting with the song, and when he finally lifts his head far enough for the light to show his eyes, they’re dark, focused and totally compelling.

He can’t take his eyes off Kris. He’s such a tiny figure on the stage, orchestra in darkness behind him, audience in darkness in front of him, and when Kris drops his head back, eyes closing to hit the high note, the hairs stand on the back of Adam’s neck stand on end. He’d always thought that was a cliché, but it’s there, it’s happening, it’s fucking _beautiful_. It’s a shiver running through him as his mouth dries and his cock fills, pressing hard against the suddenly way too tight zipper of his pants in visceral response to the unexpectedly erotic sight and sound of Kris hitting his glory notes, bringing a sudden mental slideshow of fantasy freezeframes. Kris on his knees, Kris with his mouth stretched open, Kris writhing and desperate beneath him, those amazing eyes stretched wide and dark with want. For him.

It’s wildly unprofessional and Adam couldn’t care less.

There’s dead silence when Kris finishes, when Ruth brings the orchestra off and stands statue still, her hand raised, fingers fisted to hold that silence. It’s the highest compliment an audience can give, better than applause. It’s the audience entirely caught in the moment with the characters, as if the whole hall is holding their breath with Adam as Kris falls to his knees, head dropping forwards and down again to hide his face. There’s a single clap and Ruth’s not allowing it to spill over into applause, baton whistling down to bring the orchestra in again to cut off any chance of applause breaking the mood and Adam fucking loves her in that moment.

It’s the music and more that propels him back onto the stage. Instead of the contempt Adam had originally planned on, his line holds a kind of soft disbelief that anyone could _sleep_ when there’s such a potent reason to stay awake as being with a man like this, a man who can pour his heart and soul out with such passion and commitment that he carries everyone along with him. It’s not Judas that drops down to his knees next to Jesus, it’s Adam reaching out to Kris, even if he’s not sure who holds their hand out first and who takes it. He just knows that they’ve got that contact, that Kris is looking up at him, and everyone else in the hall can go to hell for all Adam cares.

He laces his fingers with Kris’s and squeezes, gaze falling from Kris’s eyes to his lips, full and flushed. One more second, and he leans forward. It might be a kiss of betrayal, but it’s not a chaste, polite kiss on the cheek. It’s gentle, soft, heat offered and shared and it’s all he can do not to deepen it, temptation growing when Kris makes a sound too soft for the microphone to pick up and pushes up to meet him. Unable to resist entirely, Adam slides his free hand around the back of Kris’s neck, skin hot under his fingers, thumb sliding into Kris’s hair, and holds him there as long as he dares. It’s nowhere near as long as he wants.

He draws back slowly, distantly aware that the audience is still silent. Everything’s silent until a soft viola note interrupts to shatter the spell.

Right. The show must go on.

Kris licks his lips and looks down at their joined hands. Adam swallows hard, wishes his pants were less closely tailored, and lets go, fingertips trailing against Kris’s until the last moment when contact breaks and Kris looks him straight in the eye for his line. The note comes from the viola straight to Kris’s voice, husky warm tone of one blending seamlessly into the other. “Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?”

Adam pushes away and stands up, thankful that Hugh, playing Caiaphas, is there to catch him because he’s nowhere near steady enough to stand without support. He just needs a few minutes to get himself back together, and get his breath back. Thankfully he’s got the whole rest of the number to gather himself, because Judas doesn’t have to sing again for several numbers. He’s got the break of Peter’s denial, and he can get _back_ to the side of the stage to sit down and watch Kris defy Pilate, Bono make a decent attempt at Herod’s song and Alisan break his heart before he’s due back on stage.

Kris gets a break and Adam gets to sing through Judas’s own dramatic climax. There’s a look in Hugh’s eyes that’s got nothing to do with Caiaphas and Judas, and is definitely more about the fact that Adam’s going to hear more about that kiss later. (Probably from Alisan, too. She’s insufferable when she’s right.) All of that has to wait and he’s grateful for the intensity of the song. Both the emotional intensity _and_ the technical demands, because they mean that he’s got to concentrate on the music and singing rather than the way Kris’s lips felt against his own and just how good an actor Kris actually is. It probably comes off even better than he’s hoped for, emotional confusion all fed into Judas’s sense of betrayal before he can take the exit they’ve planned, fading into the chorus as they sing him out.

Once he gets through the back row of the chorus, he collapses, grateful for the respite. He can’t see what’s going on at the front of the stage and that’s a relief, because he’s got no clue how they’re managing to semi-stage thirty-nine lashes. The guy playing Pilate’s someone Adam’s never worked with but, from the increasing histrionics in his voice as he counts out the lashes, he sounds like fun. There’s no way that anyone could get through those taking them seriously, and that Pilate isn’t even trying makes Adam like him straight off.

He stretches out on his back, listening through the chorus for Kris, but he’s barely got enough chance to get his breath back before one of the stage crew is there, holding out his change of jacket. He’s got barely five minutes before he’s on again, and that means a quick change.

It only takes a few seconds to wriggle out of his jacket, rolling onto his knees so he can put on the other one. From plain black to dove gray, lavishly embroidered and beaded to catch the lights, then he shifts to a crouch so he can brush the dust from his knees and give the brush back to the stage hand with a quick nod and a smile of thanks. Then he’s standing up again, the chorus is moving to the side to give him a passageway through, and he’s into the title number.

It’s the easiest number in the whole show, one Adam’s rehearsed, and one he’s been pretty much looking forward to because it means that the hard work’s done and he’ll be off stage soon, yet somehow he’s reluctant to let it end. Getting to the end of the number will mean it’s all finished and it might be cheesier than Easy Cheese, but he really does love the show and there’s no likelihood of him doing it again any time soon. The likelihood of ever working with Kris Allen again is even less than zero. None of that means that he’s letting it affect his performance. It’s a _fun_ song after the emotional stress of the last scene, a break in the tension, and he gives it all he’s got, making the most of his chances for coloratura above the chorus.

At the end of the song, the lights cut out, plunging the hall into blackness and sending a ripple of surprise through the audience. It gives Adam a chance to get off stage, following the white tape at the edge to keep from falling, and he walks straight into Alisan’s hug as the spotlight flicks back on, picking out Kris on the balcony to carry the final scene.

“You are so screwed,” Alisan whispers gleefully in his ear and squeezes him tightly enough that he can feel his radio mic transmitter shifting against his back.

Adam sticks his tongue out at her and wrinkles his nose, regardless of whether or not she can see it in the darkness, then moves around behind her so he can watch Kris without letting go of the hug.

~~~

The industry reception afterwards turns out to be pretty much everything Adam expects it to be. Big business names, the mayor, and all the right producers to put their names to donations. He’s pretty keen on those producers knowing his name as well, and working a room like this is easy. Outrageous enough to be memorable, harmless enough to be employable, playing straight enough to be castable, he spends just enough time with each sponsor to let them know that he truly appreciates their work without giving the appearance of courting any one over the others. Alisan’s busy doing the same thing, and he occasionally catches sight of her bright smile or hears her laughter cutting through the buzz of conversation.

No matter who he’s talking with, he’s acutely aware of where Kris is. Whether Kris is over at the bar huddled with his manager or nearly obscured behind a businessman in a suit that probably cost nearly as much as staging this whole thing, Adam’s pretty certain that, at any point, he could pinpoint Kris’s location without even trying. It means that when Kris comes up from behind him, he’s not even surprised, just looking back with a smile of greeting as he excuses himself from the conversation. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kris returns, and there’s not a trace of awkwardness in his posture. Which is, frankly, kind of a relief, because Adam’s still really not sure how Kris is going to react to that unplanned, unrehearsed kiss. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“There’s popsicles?” Adam grins and moves another step away from the businessman, towards Kris. Okay, so it’s a turn of phrase, but he could be seriously suggestive with a popsicle.

Kris laughs and shrugs one shoulder. “Not right here, but... seriously, the party’s beginning to kick off. You need to be here much longer?”

Need is an interesting way to phrase it. Adam doesn’t _want_ to be there much longer, not if Kris and the others are leaving, but Lane’s never going to forgive him if he doesn’t make the most of the opportunity to network. He scans the room, mentally checking off the influential people he has and hasn’t yet talked to, and tilts his head. “Half an hour? I’m nearly done. You?”

“All done already.” The relief is clear in Kris’s voice. “I’m heading over there now, you’re coming down later, right?”

Going down later if he was really lucky, but for now... “Yeah, I’ll be there,” Adam promises.

“Cool,” Kris says happily and moves in closer.

Adam’s startled enough that he takes a half-step back. Kris totally ignores it, keeps going, and wraps himself around Adam for a hug. Warm and strong and no one that tiny and adorable should feel so solid, but Kris _does_ , fitting in against Adam and pressing his face against Adam’s shoulder for a few seconds. Just long enough for Adam to feel the heat of Kris’s body and catch the scent of his cologne before Kris pulls back, grinning, and gives him a wave as he goes.

When he finally makes it down to the cast party an hour later, Kris meets him at the door and solemnly presents him with a bright blue popsicle.

Adam raises his eyebrows - _seriously?_ \- Kris nods, and Adam laughs, peels back the wrapping, and deep-throats the thing just for the sake of it. The iceburn in his throat is totally worth it for the look on Kris’s face.

~~~

The cast party is one of the more mellow ones Adam can remember. Mostly he doesn’t remember the ones that aren’t mellow, because everyone gets kind of blitzed at those, but this one’s had the benefit of the orchestra and chorus getting there before anyone else and that means that by the time Adam gets there, most of the alcohol’s actually gone.

Most of the orchestra musicians are gone as well, along with some of the chorus, but there are still enough people to create a warm hum of conversation to fill the room. The musicians who are left have struck up an impromptu jam session in the corner, and every now and again one of the singers goes over to join them to sing through a number.

Adam’s found himself a wall to lean against, slowly working through his final glass of wine (which definitely helps ease the probably-more-mental-than-physical-by-now lingering chill of ice) and trying to locate the source of the sweet smell of weed. He’s pretty much chilled out, adrenaline rush of performance worked off on networking earlier, leaving him content enough to people-watch and listen to Alisan go through a couple of Kurt Weill numbers. Content until he spots Kris alone, anyway, then Adam pushes away from the wall to intercept him. “Gonna sing?”

Kris looks up at him, eyes dark, and shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve had my turn in the spotlight for tonight.”

It was pretty much why Adam wasn’t singing as well, and he finds himself nodding. “Yeah, my voice is pretty much fried, too. So, about that spotlight thing...”

The faint color that blooms across Kris’s cheekbones is pretty much all the confirmation Adam needs that Kris knows which spotlight thing he’s talking about. “Spotlight?”

Adam smiles and lifts one hand to brush his knuckles over that blush. “You’re really not that good an actor, baby.”

Kris doesn’t move away, or do anything to avoid Adam’s hand. It’s as good as an invitation. He turns his hand to rest his palm against Kris’s jaw, fingertips light under Kris’s ear to feel the pulse beating there. “Um,” Kris says eloquently. “Yeah. No. We had to do these ads on Idol, I kind of sucked at them.”

“So,” Adam says softly, watching Kris’s face. “When I kissed you. That wasn’t acting. Because that was totally good.”

Maybe it’s not just that Judas is gay for Jesus. Maybe Jesus is kind of a little bit gay back at him.

Maybe Adam doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as Kris is kind of a little bit gay for him, because right now his gaydar’s not just pinging, it’s playing the Hallelujah chorus so loudly that it’s an effort not to join in.

“Were you?” Kris asks, and Adam’s pretty sure that Kris doesn’t even know that he’s licking his lips, or how amazingly hot that is. “Acting?”

He laughs gently and slides his fingers around to cup the back of Kris’s neck, drawing him closer. “Baby, I’m flattered, but even I’m not that great an actor.”

“You are that great a kisser, though.” Kris follows the pull of Adam’s hand, half a step bringing him in against Adam’s body which is fucking fantastic.

“There are things I’m better at,” Adam says, entirely without modesty or shame. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I’m not doing anything tomorrow,” Kris says, hesitates for a moment, then pushes up to his toes to kiss Adam.

It’s nothing like the kiss on stage. There’s not even the thinnest shell of pretense that it’s for character reasons, there’s no script telling them that this is the moment they need to kiss. Nothing more than the heat between them, the affinity that’s grown through rehearsals, and pure desire to connect again, deeper, warmer, and with no pressure to break away until they’re ready.

Adam’s not ready for several long minutes, and even then the only reason he pulls back is that he’s still got enough awareness that if he wants to go any further - and holy shit does he ever want to go fucking further - they’re going to need to take it some place a lot more private. “You are now,” he tells Kris.

“I am what?” Kris’s voice is deeper and there’s more of that gorgeous accent that _does_ things to Adam. Good things.

“Doing something tomorrow.” He smiles and kisses Kris again, exerting self-control to keep it brief and light. “Me.”

Kris laughs and presses in closer, arms wrapping around Adam’s waist. “Tomorrow? What happened to tonight?”

“I’m not cheap,” Adam says firmly. “You totally promised me dinner.”

~~~


End file.
